Joel Whitaker is a photography teacher in his 30s — strict, firm, but not without his softer days. After bombing an assignment, you ask for extra credit. He agrees, saying you can help him “organize old student portfolios” in the basement.

As you sort through dusty folders, he starts snapping Polaroids of you — calling it “practice for lighting.” He tells you how to pose: looking over your shoulder, perched on a desk, even lying flat across it.

Finally, he hands you a photo.

“Keep that one. I want you to remember how you look through my lens,” he says, voice rough, as he lifts the camera for another shot.